Everything is Going to be Okay
by pygmypuff8
Summary: Sure, Dean and Seamus had their fights, but what normal couple didn't?


**AN: For the Jigsaw Puzzle Challenge, using all my prompts. Also for the Triwizard Tournament Competition. My dragon was the Chinese Fireball, and my challenge was: Someone must be pregnant in the story. Must be mention of a large disaster of some kind (cannot be Battle of Hogwarts). Finally, the main character and an additional character must become friends despite animosity between them. Lastly for the Wish Pot in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments). Also written because I love this pairing, and I think they are under-represented.**

**Disclaimer: Does not belong to me.**

**Many thanks to the wonderful Longxlive, who betaed my story for me and fixed many embarrassing mistakes.**

Dean gazed at the picture of the ruined apartment again, trying to piece together what had happened from the picture alone. The picture showed an apartment that should have been very pretty and attractive, had it not been for the utter chaos depicted in it.

Curtains were torn from the windows, claw-like rips in the fabric. Possessions were strewn around the room, vases shattered, books torn and the pages strewn around like leaves in autumn. Furniture was lying on their sides, seams ripped and stuffing all over the place.

Blood-spatters decorated the walls.

However, perhaps the most chilling thing of all, especially for Dean, as he and Seamus were trying to adopt, was a little car, abandoned in the violence and crushed underfoot, joining the ruins of what once was.

Sighing, letting the picture drop down onto his desk, which were strewn with similar pictures, all depicting gory scenes form the Great Werewolf Outbreak two months ago. He rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. Glancing at the clock, he saw that there was still an hour left before Seamus came home from his work as a field Auror.

He stood up, picking up his coffee mug and taking it to the kitchen to get another cup before diving into the hordes of photographs about the Werewolf Outbreak again.

The Werewolf Outbreak, that horror filled week when the werewolves decided that they had finally had enough oppression and they, especially the ones that had been in Fenrir Greyback's pack, weren't going to be oppressed anymore. Now that Remus was dead, they had no inside information on the werewolf packs, so the attack caught them completely by surprise. The werewolves had been very sneaky, and had kept it very hush-hush until the night when they attacked the first neighbourhood. The werewolves left over from Greyback's old pack had convinced the other werewolves that the only way for them to be free was to turn everyone else into werewolves.

They had positioned themselves next to the neighbourhood, and when the full moon came, they attacked.

It was horror such as Dean had never seen and he only had to go in after everyone and take photos. Seamus took all the gore and mindless viciousness much harder, as he was actually there when the werewolves attacked, having been called in when a panicked wizard managed to send a distress call to the Ministry before being ripped to pieces.

Shaking his head, he waited for the kettle to boil. Looking around the one bedroom apartment he shared with Seamus, he felt thankful that he was in the research team at the Auror department, so that he didn't have to go in to the office every day. He still worried about Seamus, however, who went out every day, risking his neck to save people. It was even more dangerous now, as they were hunting the rogue werewolves who had escaped the Aurors after the Outbreak.

As the kettle came to a boil, he prepared another cup of coffee for himself, making his way back to his desk. His eyes fell on the adoption forms stuffed under the sofa cushions. He had tried to hide it from Seamus, knowing the other man would be devastated to know that their adoption request was denied, on the grounds that they were both males.

Seamus, as Dean knew he would be, had been furious that Dean had attempted to hide it from him and had stomped away without even giving Dean a chance to explain his reasoning.

Dean had let it go, knowing that there would be no reasoning with him until he cooled off a bit. He hadn't expected Seamus to get called in early and to leave without saying goodbye. Just leaving a note for when Dean woke up, to let him know that he left early.

As such, he was doubly anxious for Seamus to get home, so that they would have a chance to talk to each other, and clear the air after yesterday evening's fiasco.

He sat down at his desk again, immersing himself in the photographs, looking for clues as to where the owners where.

While many people had been simply ripped apart, numerous other people had simply disappeared. It was widely accepted that they had been turned into werewolves, and were now running with the remaining pack.

On this photograph, the one with the little toy car, the mother and father had been found, but not the child; a little blond boy with the most beautiful blue eyes, looking to be no older than six. Dean would not have thought such a little boy could survive the transformation, but Remus had been proof to the contrary.

The department wanted him to look for any clues as to where the boy might be, as he was the youngest missing person. They didn't think he would run with the pack, but would go somewhere he thought was safe. He didn't know what they expected him to find, as there wasn't much to see in the photograph except destruction, but he still looked at it dutifully, straining his eyes to look for something he might have missed.

After staring at the same living room from four angles for what felt like forever, Dean laid down the photographs, stretched his arms above his head, and glanced at the clock.

Seeing the time, he froze with his arms above his head, a distinct feeling of unease in his stomach.

Seamus was an hour late.

Logically, Dean knew that Seamus could just be running late, and forgotten to send an owl, or been petty and decided to let him stew, but his gut-feeling told him this was something different.

Trying to dispel the feeling, he made dinner, warmed up lasagne, but ended up just sitting and staring at it until it went cold again.

Putting away the uneaten food, he tried reading a book, but he had barely read a sentence. He threw it across the room, watching it bounce of the far wall, before jumping up and squatting in front of the clock that said that Seamus was now two hours late.

Watching the minute hand tick around the clock face, Dean cursed in frustration. He stood up to get his cloak to go after Seamus, just as an owl swooped into the open window.

Knowing with a dreadful certainty that this was about Seamus, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, racing, he ripped it off the owls leg, who hooted indignantly, before tearing it open, to read:

_Dear Mr. Dean Thomas,_

_Your partner, Mr. Seamus Finnigan, requested that we send you this missive to let you know that he is in St. Mungo's critical unit, as he is unable to use his hands at the moment-_

The letter went on, but Dean ignored it. He threw it to the ground, jamming a knut into the pouch on the owls leg before grabbing his coat, almost flying out of the house.

He ran until he was outside the wards, and then he turned on the spot, dissaparating.

He appeared a few seconds later in front of the window that was St. Mungos entrance. Waiting for the mannequin to acknowledge him, he dashed through the solid looking glass and into the reception room, where he was directed to the first floor care unit.

He raced up the stairs, completely ignoring the stares other people were throwing his way, and skidded to a halt in front of a room, which held two beds, one of which held two people.

Dean marched in, barely aware of the other person, a woman, standing up, and kneeled next to Seamus' bed, grabbing his hand, which was bandaged up rather tightly. Careful not to cause him any pain, he proceeded to kiss him and tell him what an idiot he was.

He stopped when he heard a dry chuckle, and Seamus saying dryly, his accent shining through: "Ya nitwit, I only burned me hands and fractured me foot. If you'd bothered to read the letter I'd asked to be sent to ya, ya would have known it. I'm only in here because Harry is a nervous pisspot."

Though his words sounded exasperated, Dean could tell that Seamus was amused, and his voice had a tender sound to it. Dean knew in that moment he was forgiven for hiding the papers from him.

Smiling sheepishly, Dean stood up, intending to sit next to Seamus on the chair provided by the hospital, when he heard a throat being cleared.

Looking up, he saw the woman whom he had so easily dismissed when storming in, had been Seamus' mother, who worked part-time at the hospital. His face instantly losing the grin, as he saw the woman who blamed him for turning her son 'into a poof', he said courteously, "Good day Mrs. Finnigan, how are you?"

Looking almost amused at his formal choice of words, she beckoned him after her, and walked out of the room. Sighing, as Seamus was also shooing him away, he trudged out after her.

Since he and Seamus got together, Mrs. Finnigan had been very disapproving. She didn't believe in being gay, and thought it was just a phase they were going through. When it became clear, however, that this was something serious, she had been courteous to Dean, but never anything more and he had always sensed a feeling of animosity from her.

Facing her outside the room, he prepared himself to face a similar cold face as all the previous times he had talked to her.

Instead, taking out her wand, and casting Muffliato, she turned to face him again, a broad smile on her face.

Confused by her expression, he was blown away by the words that came out of her mouth.

"Oh, me boy. I've been so unfair to ye both. It's not yer fault if ye love each other, and, really, who'm I to judge? I married the most cowardly man ye've ever met, who left me an Seamus when things got too strange for him," she said with a depreciating smile, "At least you two really love ech other, and really, what more can a mother ask?"

She was becoming sniffy now. In order to stop the tears that Dean was sure wasn't far of he said, "Oh, it wasn't that bad, though I do wonder-"

He didn't get any farther, cut off by Mrs. Finnigan crying, "Och, dear, of course it was bad, I can't blame ye if ye hate me really."

Though he opened his mouth to reassure her he didn't hate her, she didn't give him a chance and just ploughed on.

"I realized how much ye care for him when he told me how ye tried to spare his feelings about the adoption fiasco. Especially with ye friend, Ginny, being pregnant and all, but," her eyes grew serious, and she glanced at Seamus in the room behind her, where he had fallen asleep, "I realised how much ye love him when ye di'nt even read the letter all the way through, and just came bursting in here, falling at his feet and kissing his hand as if ye would die if something happened ta him."

His throat too tight to speak, he pulled Mrs. Finnigan closer, tears seeping out of his tightly clenched eyes and thought, everything is going to be okay.

Maybe he and Seamus won't get a baby immediately, and maybe they still had to worry about the werewolves on the loose, and maybe they were a bit tight on money, but they had each other, and that was all they really needed.

Letting go of the sniffling witch, Seamus smiled gently at her. Watching her dab at her eyes with a handkerchief, before walking off to attend to her duties, he turned around, walking into the room again and sitting on the chair next to Seamus, holding his hand, and waiting for him to wake up.


End file.
